I grew up in Jesus, America. It was perfect if you wanted to drink beer and watch football, but as for great live music, my friends and I suffered. Don’t get me wrong, The Flaming Lips are fantastic, but they didn’t count. They lived downtown. We needed someone, anyone to bring it on down home and rarely, if ever did it happen. I made a promise to myself during those years that if I ever had the opportunity to see my heroes on a regular basis that I would let nothing stand in my way. When I moved to Los Angeles in 2001, I was ecstatic. Every Thursday the Weekly would have pages and pages of new show announcements. What a world I would create!
Fast-forward 3 years and I was bottoming out in the big ‘ol city barely hanging on to my sanity and sleeping mostly in my car. The party was over. Thankfully, I was able to admit that it was over and through the 12 steps I got sober. One of the many uncountable gifts of my recovery is that after all these years I am able to finally see those musicians I used to play air-guitar to in my bedroom. I know it seems small, but its my favorite thing. Some people knit afghans. I love live music. Thanks Bill W.